Ending
by Freyalyn
Summary: Before the movie Hellboy 2, perhaps the royal siblings have another way to change the world.


The sun was shining through the new leaves, and I could hear bees and insects creating a low, heavy hum behind and around me. I took a drink from my water bottle, then let my hand fall down to the ground beside my leg - it was so hot for spring here in Ireland. Any minute now, I thought, I'll get up and walk a few more miles before I stop again. I leaned back against the birch tree I was sat against, and shut my eyes. I heard my rucksack fall over beside me.

What seemed like a moment later - but much longer by the angle of the sun - I opened them again. Someone was standing between me and the sunlight, holding out a beaker. "Please drink", said a soft, female voice.

I struggled a bit more upright, blinking blearily at her. "Excuse me, um, hello?" I managed, brilliantly.

She knelt in front of me, still holding out the beaker. It seemed to be metal. Odd, I thought, to take a heavy metal beaker while out walking in the hills. I felt a very strong compulsion to drink from it. The woman knelt in front of me urged it silently upon me, and I looked up at her golden eyes, feeling their strength.

I shook myself mentally, and stood up, almost touching her. She stood too, and stepped back, but held the beaker in front of her. Her clothes bore no resemblance to anything you'd expect someone out in the wilds here to be wearing - long silky things, in golds and browns - but oddly enough I didn't seem to find this strange. And white hair. And large yellow eyes. Perhaps I was still sleeping. Or I'd been up too late reading too much fantasy.

"OK", I said. "Who are you, and why do you want me to drink this…this…" I looked down at the beaker. It held a thick, dark orange liquid. Not appetising.

Another voice spoke behind me - I turned my head. Curiouser and curiouser, ran the old quote through my head. A tall man, in black, strikingly similar to the woman in front of me. I was tall enough; she topped me by a few inches, him by nearly a head. And more of that strange white hair and gold eyes. I was definitely dreaming, like Alice.

An argument was going on between them, in a language I didn't understand but recognised. I may have been English myself, but I was on holiday in Ireland and could recognise the native tongue.

They suddenly fell silent and turned towards me. The woman addressed me in the language I was assuming was Irish. I shrugged my shoulders and made a 'don't know' gesture with my hands, wondering if I'd missed my opportunity to run. If my legs worked at this stage, of course. "Are you aware?" she repeated, in English.

"Look", I said. "This is really strange. I'm just walking over here, not doing any harm, this may not be a public footpath but I'm not far from it, I've done no harm" (a grimace cross the man's face at this point) "and I really don't want to get involved in whatever it is you're doing. And that drink really doesn't look good". I stepped backwards.

The woman cast a glance at the man, gold eyes meeting and flashing back to me.

"Please, do not go. We were told that one who saw us for what we are would come. Let me explain, and perhaps you will help us willingly. If not…" she shrugged, and looked at the tall man beside her. He glared at me with hot gold eyes, then back at her.

The air was still hot and heavy, damp with the fast growth of late spring. I shook my head to clear it, and thought - well, might as well. If it's a dream, it's different. If not, well, I've wanted to walk into enough fantasy books for this to be, well, perhaps fun's not the word. I'm sure there'll be blood.

"Yes, there is blood," the woman said again. "My brother", she indicated with a hand gesture, "and I are the last heirs of the Tuatha De. The humans are pushing us out of existence, have been for hundreds of your generations. There are those of our kind who would destroy the human world in blood and violence rather than see the last of the Sidhe disappear." She looked at the man as she spoke. "We think some humans would help - and I think you are one. Will you?"

I stared at them both, my eyes flicking one to another. She was looking back clearly and openly, and I could feel her willing me to accept, but there was a shadow behind her eyes, some guilt she was feeling. The man was looking over my head, an expression on his face as if there was a nasty smell under his nose. But he was exceptionally goodlooking though - I'd have to be blind not to notice. If you like the tall, white-haired exotic types. I'd read Michael Moorcock in my youth - I did. As beautiful as the strange pale woman was, he beat her hands down. I pulled my eyes off him, feeling an odd tug in my middle.

"How?" I said simply.

"Drink this". She offered me the beaker again, not meeting my eyes this time.

"What is it? What will it do?"

"If we tell you the truth you will not help us". This from the man, in English. No Irish accent, I thought. He was actually looking at me as if he saw me this time, and still didn't like what he saw.

"Try me", I challenged. "There's a lot of humans I've gone off, too".

The woman took a deep breath, drawing my gaze back to her. "My name", she said, shrugging off the other's hand as he grasped her shoulder in negation, "is Nuala. This drink contains many things, including my blood, and my brother's. He is Nuada."

She saw me start.

"Yes, the names will be familiar. Your legends and stories are a pale re-telling of our race, and may yet be a foretelling.

"If you drink this, and go back among your people, those whom you touch, and those who touch those, and yet further and further those who are touched again, will bear no children. This drink contains a _virus_, for want of a better word, and it will spread among almost all humans, affecting more those who are further from the earth. No-one need be killed."

Silence fell. Even the bees were not quiet. Not a breath of air disturbed the leaves and grasses.

I felt as if on the edge of a precipice. Not for a second had I doubted she was telling the truth. I thought of my family, my husband at home with the dogs. The great art and music humans had created, and the terrible wars, cruelties and tortures humans had inflicted upon themselves and others. The sound of children playing….

The loss of this was a high price. Not losing this would cost the earth. But no-one need be killed…

I reached out for the goblet. Nuala passed it to me with a trembling hand. Nuada stepped back with a confused expression of amazement and, I think, respect, on his face. I drank it.

Heavy, thick, and metallic. Coppery, like blood, but also grassy and earthy, and chalky. I choked.

"Please, all of it", Nuala urged. Looking at her through watering eyes, I complied, and wiped my lips with the back of my hand. The liquid was now scarlet as human blood. I felt dizzy and reached behind me for the tree. The siblings moved either side of me and helped me to sit where I had been just a few moments ago. A white hand moved across my face and closed my eyes, and I felt lips touch my brow.

I heard the bees again. In a few moments, I thought, I'll get up and continue on. Back to the farmhouse b&b this evening, back to Dublin tomorrow, flight home. It had been a good break, but it was nearly over. Back to work.


End file.
